Spiritual

The Decent 
A sonnet 
Downward I look at the staircase to Hell 
Feeling the hot wind from the fire below 
Sad how Heaven is a place I dont know 
Perhaps I will get there time will tell 
I decend with a most heavy of heart 
The air is thin, clutching my breast so warm 
I wonder how many souls will depart 
This a unholy place where demons swarm 
In the darkness little candles are lit 
For fallen ones prayers left unheard 
How the mostsunken mind must have true grit 
The reality of the spoken word 
Comforts me for it is forsaken not 
To release me from where my soul is caught